Today, November 16th 2017, marks 9 days on estradiol. And while I'd love to say that things have been great and easy, outside situations have made the last 2 weeks an absolutely nioghtmare so I've kinda been so side tracked that I haven't really paid much attention to what small changes have been happening or how I've felt.
So just under 2 weeks ago I moved from the place I was dwelling in and that was rough. I'm not going to go too much into the 'why' but it was not cool and I was faced with having to move asap. So I really tried to focus on ignoring my emotions and working on finding a new place instead of freaking out about how that task has not been easy for me over the last 1 and a half years. (I've moved about every 6 months since May of 2016)
So I LUCKILY found a place and met with a woman who had a room to rent. I moved in and two days later, I was told it wasn't working out and I had to move out...again. For those of you keeping score, that's
Moving: 3
Me: 0
in one week's time, since I had to be out of there. Not my favorite thing to do and so I found ANOTHER place to live, thanks to the prayers of friends. That's one of the biggest things really weighing on me over the last few weeks.
With that going on and affecting my every waking moment, I have been fighting depression very very hard, the thought of giving up was right in my face and I even tried to give up a few times.
Now, I'm going to share something I'm not proud of and I am glad it didn't turn out the way it could have but it's the harsh truth and it's what happens when depression takes over. There was a day when I first found out I had to move and I was emailing many places about renting a room and not getting any responses. The woman I was staying with was putting pressure on me to move out and that was making me just feel so much worse.
The last straw that night was the fact that I thought I had a place. It was a great price and in my area, the guy said I could move in on a Sunday, he just had to clear up like one or two things before I moved in...but... there's always a but...I called him that Sunday and he made some excuse why I couldn';t move in and he rejected me. I was so angry and so desperately sad and so hopeless that I took a walk and yelled at life or God or whatever.
I got to a parking lot that was dark and got on my knees very much in a dangerous spot; I knelt there and cried and waited and was giving up. I looked up at the sky and yelled that I wanted it all to just be over already. Just thern I saw a truck roaring toward me. It had to turn around to be driving at me and did, I watche dit come fast and the headlights covered me in light as it got close. I felt my knee jolt but as I was about to move out of danger, I stopped myself and just sat there. With tears making my face freeze, I waited and hoped the truck wouldn't stop. It didn't even come within 20 feet of me but it felt like it was inches from my body and I was heart broken that the truck turned and lef tthe parking lot. I was so so empty that night, so unable to even know what to do...
I'm not happy about any of that but I also need this to be a completely honest account of everything and that was exactly how things went down. I wanted to stop having to fight through every single thing that I could possibly have to fight through.
Enough of the negative though, here are the few positive things that have been existant:
1. I have been taking estradiol for 9 days. I found out I have very very low testosterone levels, well below normal males, so I wasn't prescribed any kind of blocker. I thought that was kinda weird because without getting specific, everythig works very well for me so even my Dr was surprised about that. I don't know what the numbers represent exactly but to give you an idea:
Normal male testosterone levels are between 215-270 and I came in at 168.
Anyway, after 9 days, I am starting to experience slight breast growth and different sensations. I was told my emotions would go crazy and I'd possibly be moody or overemotional but so far the meds have kinda calmed me down in a way, although I've been dealing with the height of fear and stress with the potential homelessness and being constantly facing the worst of seemingly everything I did and everyone I talked to. That's not even including the customers at work, which were just beyond rude and mean lately. So that's a...not bad thing, I suppose.
I've been telling more and more friends and have been accepted for the real me, I have been absolutely blown away by friends who I thought would not even care enough to respond or anything who not only accepted me as a friend but have been keeping up with me and offered suport and love.
To thos eof you who are a part of that, you know who you are, I want you to know something specific:
You would never have been the reason if I had taken my life at
any point but you are definitaly the reason my life feels worth
something now. I can't thank you enough for what you have
given me in your friendship and support, whether you agree or not.
And I did figure out my living situation, after staring into the face of hopelessness I found an old friend/landlord who helped out with a plan and a place to live near my friends and my church.
...normally I'd end it there but there are two ironies and a sad thing about today.
Irony #1: So I figured out my living situation, it turns out I'm going to be moving two houses away from a perosn who used to be a very good friend. Someone who screwed me over and created lies about me and tried to spread them to some friends. This person is not worth naming but I'm not sure if I'm annoyed that I'm going to see said person at some point or if it's funny that this person is going to have to see me possibly regularly. And I plan on staying there for some time so
Irony #2: The guy who used to be my landlord and who is again reminds me of my Uncle. Like, in every single way. He acts like Uncle Mike, talks like him, he's nice and helpful and thoughtful the way Uncle Mike was, his mannerisms are so similar that I talk to him and it's like Uncle Mike is with me in a way.
And today, November 16th marks 5 years since I got a call from my Aunt, a call that changed my life and left me a hole that would and will bnever be filled again. 5 years ago, I found out my Uncle Mike took his life and that I'd never hear his voice in person again or get a call from him or ge tto tell him things that happen in my life ever again. I have not gone one minute without feeling the effects of his suicide and I never will as long as I live. I still love my Uncle as much as anyone can love a fmaily member and it's always going to be harder here without him. He was an asset to this world (even though he wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination) and he is sorely missed.
RIP Michael Patrick Bossler1966-2012
